


Silent Night

by deernymph



Series: this is destiny; this is love [1]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst with a Happy Ending, Forbidden Love, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, LGBTQ Themes, M/M, Reincarnation, Romance, Royalty, Short & Sweet, Soulmates, Trauma, Writing, implied sex kind of?, some shakespeare thrown in
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-17
Updated: 2017-12-18
Packaged: 2018-06-02 18:18:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,269
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6577354
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deernymph/pseuds/deernymph
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Someone wise once said that babies cry because they remember their sorrows from their past lives, having to deal with the flood of memories. Hodei’s mother told him that he cried for five days straight.<br/>-<br/>In a world where people remember their past lives and their soulmates, a young author writes his story.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Lots of people remember tragic events from their past lives. Hodei knows this—he’s reminded every time he watches the news, reads the newspaper, turns on the radio. Such stories are everywhere. One woman remembers being a horrible dictator, one who brought pain and suffering to many. She cried in her interview, with her soulmate at her side, hushing her, soothing her. They’d been soulmates in their past lives, too. Hodei knows because he watched the interview at least five times. 

He’s not some kind of sadist who enjoys watching those people cry, nor does he have some strange morbid interest in such stories. It’s just that he understands their stories. He seeks them out to not feel so alone in his situation.

Someone wise once said that babies cry because they remember their sorrows from their past lives, having to deal with the flood of memories. Hodei’s mother told him that he cried for five days straight, joking that she got no sleep at all. It was all jest until he turned thirteen, and she stopped and asked, “What happened to you, _mi amor_? You’re old enough to tell me, aren’t you?” He’d always been quiet about it, keeping those memories to himself. When she finally outright asked him though, he began to sob, and tell her his story.

He’d been a young prince, the heir to the throne. His people loved him, and he loved them. His father was proud, often ruffling his hair and praising him, telling him of the bright future ahead of him. He was kind to all his servants, helping them, even. (He’d just naturally enjoyed helping people—it was in his nature.)

There was one servant in particular that was special: Emil.

Hodei had known just by looking at him that they were soulmates. Emil had taken his breath away, to be cheesy about it—his eyes sparkled with such mischief, his smile was contagious, and, well… it’d just been about Emil’s beauty at the time, really.

“Do you need some help?” Hodei asked one day, mustering up the courage to speak to him. Emil had been trying to balance multiple pots and dishes on top of each other to carry them to the kitchen, but they kept on tilting dangerously to the side. Poor thing would probably get introduced to the whip if they all fell and shattered.

“Definitely!” Emil laughed, his smile wide and without worry. Hodei smiled back dreamily, and they walked to the kitchen together, carrying the dishes with much more ease.

“I saw you reading Shakespeare in the library,” Emil said immediately. “Macbeth? What a depressing play.”

Hodei blinked, surprised. “You’ve read it?” He asked. Most servants couldn’t read, and if they could, they definitely weren’t reading _Shakespeare_.

“My mother taught me to read when I was little,” Emil explained, seeing the puzzled look on his face. “I like Shakespeare’s work, but Macbeth is dreadful. I prefer A Midsummer Night’s Dream." 

And so it began. Emil practically swept Hodei off his feet with such wit and intelligence, and Hodei, in turn, swept Emil off his own feet. They became fast friends, spending their time on the roof of the palace, just talking for hours on end about any silly little thing. (On one occasion they reenacted Romeo and Juliet, or at least, tried to recreate the play. They ended up on the floor, laughing so hard that they couldn’t continue. Both had dramatized their part to the point of ridiculousness.)

 Their friendship turned to other things—holding hands when no one was looking, sneaking kisses in the dark corners of gardens. Hodei was in heaven, thinking himself to be the luckiest person in the world. He was with his soulmate, a best friend to him, a lover, no less. Life was beautiful, those years.

Of course, not everything was wonderful. Relationships like theirs were illegal, disgraceful, and punishable by _death_. They had to be careful, had to keep it a secret. Such a scandal would not end well for them or the kingdom.

One day they both got cocky, growing the courage to share kisses in the library. They thought no one would see them in between the bookshelves.

Hodei’s father had been looking for him, and a servant told him that they saw Hodei and Emil heading for the library.

He caught the two kissing in between the bookshelves.

(They kept the secret for six years.)

Emil was taken to court for it. Hodei begged to be the one punished instead, insisted that it was his fault, but no one listened. The kingdom needed an heir, after all, but no one would miss one servant, one peasant. The night before the trial, both of them met in secrecy, curled up together in the dark, crying because they already knew Emil was doomed. A servant stood no chance against a judge appointed by the King.

 “I’ll find you again,” Emil told him late into the night, voice soft and hushed. “In our next life. Somehow I’ll find you.”

 “Don’t make me wait a century,” Hodei pleaded. “I don’t know if I could take a century alone.”

“I won’t,” Emil promised, hugging him close. “I won’t.”

The next day, Emil went to court. He was found guilty.

Hodei woke up the day after, just after sunrise. He laid in bed, staring numbly at the soft sunlight filtering in through the curtains, listening to the singing of birds outside. He remembers not feeling anything, just a horrible, strange calm.

“A beautiful morning, isn’t it?” He heard a servant say from outside his door.

“A beautiful morning indeed,” Another servant replied.

Emil was hung early in the morning while the birds sang their morning songs.

Life continued. Everyone moved on, the stories of that young servant hung for homosexuality starting to grow old among the commoners. Hodei couldn’t move on. He became king, of course, married a princess from a neighboring kingdom, had an heir, but every time he closed his eyes he saw Emil. _You could’ve saved him_ , his brain convinced him, _if you’d just done something, begged a little harder, been more careful_. Such thoughts haunted him all the way to his deathbed. They follow him on to his next life.

After Hodei tells his story, his mother holds him tightly, kisses his face, murmurs reassuring things to him in soft-spoken Spanish. He couldn’t have asked for a better mother.

It’s said that time heals all wounds. Hodei wonders if that saying carries on to soulmates.

 

At fourteen, he’s enrolled in a writing class after the very enthusiastic encouragement of his mother. The teacher is a pudgy woman with a sweet, round face. One of the first pieces of advice she gives to Hodei and his peers is, “Write what you know.” Then, she adds with a wink and smile, “That includes past lives!”

When Hodei gets home that day, he traces his fingers over the cover of Romeo and Juliet, thinking. _Write what you know_ , he remembers, and, in a burst of bravery, picks up a pen and begins to write. 

He writes about his life as a prince, his first glance at Emil, and their first conversation. Not much thought goes into it, he just… _writes_. When he’s done, he’s written ten pages, and the weird sensation of shame comes over him. Certainly, he didn’t do Emil justice, he never could, not with words. He shoves the pages in a drawer and doesn’t look at them until his next class.

The teacher, while they’re all hard at work at an assigned prompt, notices one frustrated student crumple their paper into a ball. She lets out a distressed noise that makes everyone in the room look up.

Holding up the ball of paper, she announces, “Never _ever_ do something like this to your writing. Don’t throw it away or crumple it up. _Keep it_. Everything you write is important, it shows a step in your learning process.”

Her words, like always, followed Hodei home. He grudgingly put his story in a binder, expecting it to never see the light of day again.

 

Hodei is twenty-four, practically tearing through his binders and looking for inspiration. Writing is difficult when you don’t even know what to write, and its especially frustrating when that’s what pays your bills. 

He sighs and sets yet another binder aside, reaching for his coffee and sipping it slowly, pondering writer’s block. His last novel (The Boy in the Stars) had been a hit, unexpectedly, his readers eating it up (figuratively, of course—oh, God, now he’s imagining people stuffing the pages of his book in their mouths and he can’t stop smiling). Now everyone was waiting expectantly for his next book to come out. The Boy in the Stars was still gaining him profit but once its glamor wore off…

Hodei sighs. The Boy in the Stars was a hit, but not as big of a hit as he’d wanted. Not enough to buy his mother a nice beach house and a new convertible.

Setting the mug aside, he grabs another binder, wincing when he sees that it’s from what he calls the Dark Ages (eight to ninth grade, of course). One can easily tell that he’s getting desperate when he even spares a glance at that binder. He brushes away the thin layer of dust on the cover, breathes in deeply, and opens it up.

Well, the writing isn’t _as_ bad as he remembers, and he’s got some solid ideas written down. He hums thoughtfully, flipping through the pages until he reaches one certain story.

It’s the one about Emil, he realizes, and… it’s not half-bad…

Slowly, he picks up his journal and pen and begins to write.

 

It takes him a year and then some to write it all down, mostly because he actually has to go back and read everything. He changed some details, of course, telling the story of the English prince Beau and his servant Noé and dramatizing some parts for the sake of it being a novel, but other than that it’s all true. He’s giddy and nervous when he hands a copy off to his mother, rocking back and forth on his heels as she reads the first pages.

On only the fourth page she says, “This is about you and Emil.”

“Yes,” He says quickly. “Call me when you finish it and tell me if it should be published.” He runs off and buys himself a cappuccino for comfort. He’s never gone into detail about Emil with her, just given her the quick summary. This novel, though, it delves into just the beginning of his relationship with Emil. If he publishes it, it’ll be turned into a full-blown series, and he’s not sure if he’s ready for that. 

Days later, Hodei is scrolling through Twitter when his mother calls. “What did you think, mama?” He asks, trying his best not to sound anxious. He keeps his eyes trained on a tweet from one his fans, linking him to what has to be some embarrassing fanfiction of The Boy in the Stars.

“Publish it,” She says immediately.

Hodei blinks. “That’s it?”

“People will love it, _amado_ , I know they will. You know they eat up these kinds of things. You don’t have to tell anyone it’s about your past life, either.” 

“I suppose so,” Hodei muses. “I think I’ll wait until the excitement about my last novel dies down.”

He doesn’t end up waiting. 

 

Hodei is twenty-eight and exhausted.

He lounges behind a table reading Macbeth as his crew starts cleaning up. He’d help, really, but he’s just had to deal with hundreds of fans squealing and handing over presents and asking for their books to be signed, and he just wants to relax. Plus, there are some stragglers standing by, holding their books to their chests and looking on uncertainly. Sooner or later they’ll ask for their books to be signed. 

He’s read Macbeth countless times, but he always ends up picking it up again for the sake of nostalgia. He just naturally gravitates to it, it seems, especially so while he was writing the last book of Silent Night. Perhaps it was some strange source of comfort. 

Writing the last book was painful, almost like reliving all those moments with Emil. It left Hodei emotionally drained, and as the fans asked about sequels or movies he just smiled weakly and said, “Maybe one day.” He’d worked nonstop on Silent Night and definitely needed a vacation; movies and sequels are the last things on his mind.

“We’ll be leaving soon,” His manager assures him when he gives her a tired look. “Just a few more minutes to go.”

Hodei sighs and indulges himself in Macbeth.

Eventually, someone approaches, smiling and holding a copy of Silent Night, and Hodei raises his eyes from his book to take a good look at them. The man blinks excitedly down at him with green eyes, lashes fluttering, nervously tucking a black curl behind his ear.

“Macbeth, huh?” He says, placing the book down on the table offhandedly. “What a depressing play.”

Hodei bites his lip, the phrase so familiar that something in his stomach twists unpleasantly.

“Though I guess,” The man continues, “the author of something depressing is expected to read tragedies.”

“But you bought the book,” Hodei reminds him.

“It was delightfully sad,” his smile softens. “I have a question, though.” 

“Yes?” 

“Do Nové and Beau find each other in their next life?” The man stares openly, earnestly, his eyes wide as if just staring hard enough will bring him the answer.

Hodei smiles. “The million dollar question. That is for the reader to decide." 

“I think they do,” The man says. “After all, soulmates always find each other.”

“Hm,” Hodei replies, grabbing his pen and opening up to the first page.

There, on the back of the cover, scrawled in familiar shaky handwriting reads: _I’m sorry I took so long_.

Hodei lets out a noise somewhere in between a laugh and a sob. _Don’t make me wait a century. I don’t know if I could take a century alone._

“Um,” He clears his throat, voice all croaky and broken even still, “whom should I address this too?” He looks up, meeting eyes sparkling with mischief.

“Emil,” Hodei’s soulmate says.


	2. Extra; Peaceful Day

Hodei found Emil outside in the gardens, doing laundry.

He paused in the terrace of the palace, on the empty marble floors, and rested a hand on a column, smiling. The day was hot; hot enough that Emil had his dark curls pinned back, though one rebel strand hung over his forehead. He blinked rapidly, dispelling sweat from his lashes, squinting his emerald eyes. His hands made quick work of the laundry; scrubbing it in the wash basin and hanging it to dry with ease. Eyes worth more than any amount of jewels, and hands that moved so gracefully it was if they danced. He looked peaceful and beautiful, even in the heat.

Hodei's smile spread to a grin. He stripped his wrists of his bracelets, slipped off his rings, and tossed his circlet to the side. Once he had toed off his shoes, he began his prowl.

How easy it was to sneak up on Emil, once all his noisy jewelry was off. Sometimes it was so easy he wondered if Emil pretended to not see him coming. The thought made sense, but it also wasn't as exciting, so he decided against it.

He lunged upon his prey, wrapping his arms around Emil. Emil squealed and dropped a blanket into the basin, spinning around--Hodei took the chance to lift him up.

He was skinny but still as tall as Hodei, and it took effort that made his arms tremble. Emil laughed, though, and wrapped his arms around his neck, crying, "Hodei! Put me down!"

He grudgingly obeyed. "Sorry. I just haven't seen you all day." He leaned forward to bump his nose against Emil's; Emil blew air into his face in retaliation.

"Yes, well, being a Prince doesn't mean you can go around attacking servants," Emil teased but turned around to pick up the blanket and wring it. Hodei felt a flash of disappointment and, frowning, stepped around so that he was in front of his soulmate.

"Would you come with me for a moment?" When Emil didn't stop, he reached out to put a hand on top of his. "I've got something to show you."

Emil made a face--the type that implied he wanted to be stern, but just didn't have it in him to be. The edges of his mouth twitched, suppressing a smile. "I should be working," he said.

"You can do it later."

Emil was grinning now. "I could get in trouble."

"Well, if there wasn't that risk, it wouldn't be any fun, now would it?"

His resolve had fully broken now--child's play. "Alright. Lead the way, Romeo." Hodei held his hand, warm and calloused, and lead him into the gardens, through the trees and shrubs and flower patches.

They reached it; a young oak, trunk thin and branches weak, but lush with leaves nonetheless. It blended in with the bushes and other shrubbery, but Hodei knew this was the one. "Look," he said, pointing up to it, and Emil squinted.

"I don't see anything." He turned to Hodei, smirking. "Did you take me here just so we could fool around?"

Hodei couldn't help but flush red. "Of course not! Just--l-look." He grabbed Emil by the waist again and lifted him up--it took twice the effort this time, but Emil peered in and let out a gasp of excitement.

"A nest! Birdies!" As if on cue, the chicks let out a chorus of alarmed chirps, a backdrop to Emil's surprised laughter. It made Hodei's chest all warm, and made him forget the ache in his arms.

And then, a different type of chirp rang out. Hodei barely had time to identify it before Emil cried, "eep!" and flinched, clinging onto Hodei tightly. There was an angry flash of blue, a confused fluttering of wings, and Hodei panicked--the two of them hit the ground, him breaking Emil's fall and practically feeling the bruises forming. Above them, the mother bluejay cried out angrily and flew in to check on her nest.

Emil laughed, not moving an inch from his perch on top of Hodei. He was so close that Hodei felt every exhale against his cheek, and when Emil pressed his face to his neck he felt the vibrations of his laughter.

He couldn't help the huge grin that spread across his face, so large it hurt, and he reached up to brush back Emil's hair.

"Did you like it?" He asked when Emil lifted himself up on his elbows.

Emil just continued to smile, and kissed him. Hodei eagerly returned the press of his lips, and Emil giggled, his breath hot against Hodei's mouth. Hodei reached up to pull him back down; this time he was too eager and their teeth clacked together; Emil whined, complaining, and rolled off.

"So you did bring me here just to defile me," he sighed, "you fiend. What kind of prince are you?"

"Hardly a prince at all," Hodei admitted, and pressed a kiss to the edge of Emil's mouth. "Did you like the birds, though? I found them and thought of you."

"I loved them." Emil inched closer to rest his head in his shoulder. "How will the kingdom react when they discover their darling prince is guilty of sodomy, and of showing his lover a nest of birds, only to defile him in the grass? Unfit for a king, I say!"

"Defile?" Hodei grinned mischievously. "I'll show you defilement, Juliet." He pinned his soulmate's hands down and kissed him, listening to his breathless laughter and the sound of birds singing their morning songs.

For just a moment, the life of prince Hodei was beautiful and carefree.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One of the many things I don't like about Silent Night is how I didn't go into Emil and Hodei's time together.
> 
> My style has changed, so I look back on it and think I could have added so much more to it... and so this extra was born. I wanted to explore what a regular day might have been for these two when they were together. It's small, but hopefully, you all think it's cute.
> 
> Maybe I'll write more extras after this? Anyway, thank you for reading.


	3. Extra 2: Eight Moments

Hodei has heard stories of soulmates who know each other so well, they've memorized every little quirk, pet-peeve, or tick in every single life. They're perfect for each other in every way, knowing every single little secret. They're the type that get married weeks after finding each other.

Hodei and Emil are not like that.

1\. Emil kicks all the covers off of the bed.

He is a constant source of heat. In the winter, this is pleasant; when their apartment gets wickedly cold, Hodei  can just curl up beside him and work there, or, on the weekends, snuggle up to him just to fall asleep. Emil jokes that they don't need to pay for heating, when he can just keep the place warm himself. It's cute. Hodei's friends are considerably jealous on snowy days, when the two huddle together like penguins and stay deliciously warm.

It's not cute in the summer.

Emil will kick the blankets off the bed with no remorse, leaving Hodei in a strange limbo where he's both cold and uncomfortable from the lack of cover, but also hot as hell. Emil, on the other hand, sleeps soundly. Hodei quickly learns to use Emil as a makeshift blanket, when their duvet is lost to oblivion.

2\. Emil talks a lot about his past life, but not his current one.

They have many sad conversations, late into the night when the stars have overtaken the sky. Emil talks about his last days, how his conversation with Hodei beforehand brought an odd calm over him. When the noose looped around his neck, he wasn't scared at all, he said. He knew that he'd just find Hodei again.

Emil does not describe death. Hodei experienced it peacefully in old age, and it felt almost like falling asleep, except against the back of his eyelids he saw flashes of light. Emil simply shrugs and says it was swift.

They have many fun conversations as well, though. The two can still recite their respective lines from Romeo and Juliet, and when Hodei brings his worn copy of Hamlet with him on trips Emil makes it a point to complain loudly. It's nice. It brings that warm, fuzzy, nostalgic feeling into his chest.

However, when Hodei asks about his childhood this life, he has scarcely anything to say.

"It was like any other childhood," he says.

"You must have _something_ special," Hodei insists. "My mother used to make me slippery elm tea all the time, and I had a blue blanket I carried around until I was eight."

Emil smiles at that. "I really can't think of anything--though you sounded like a cute kid."

When Hodei asks if he has any siblings, he says, "Oh, some." When Hodei inquires more, he continues, ever vague, "just some brothers and sisters."

It's strange, and saddening. Hodei just wants to shake him, bring him back to the present, and while curled up on some sleepless night Hodei says, "You're very stuck in the past."

Emil is silhouetted by the city lights outside, the curve of his nose and his eyelashes just visible against the bursts of color. Hodei sees him blink slowly, thinking. "Am I?"

"You've never told me anything about your childhood, your siblings, your parents. Where did you go to school? What did you want to be when you were a kid? How was high school for you?" Emil seems miles away, and Hodei reaches out to touch his arm, where his skin is freckled and smooth.

Emil shrugs. "I don't really... remember much. It's kind of sad." He laughs, though there's no humor behind it. "My memories traumatized me a little, and I was more focused on trying to find you than... having a childhood."

Hodei feels his heart sink. "I'm sorry, Emil." He shuffles in closer, wrapping one arm around Emil and letting him tuck his head under his chin. "I never wanted you to center your whole life around me. You have to be happy too, you know."

"I am happy with you," Emil says, though Hodei feels tears on his skin.

3\. Emil is sneaky, and Hodei falls for it far too often.

Really, it's little things. He bans Emil from the kitchen while he's baking, simply because he has an insatiable sweet tooth, and while he has a tray of cookies out to cool, Emil sneaks up on him.

Hodei barely has time to scold him before he's being backed up, his hips digging into the counter, Emil's hands on either side of him. Emil kisses him senseless; his whole body tingles and his knees turn to jelly as Emil entwines one hand in his hair. He doesn't notice the other hand creeping towards the pan.

Only when Emil darts away quickly, shoving cookies into his mouth, does Hodei realize he's been fooled.

It's safe to say, Hodei hardly makes any cookies after that, out of fear of that scene playing out once again.

He'd been just as quick-witted as Emil in their past life, and perhaps he would have seen it coming, but present Hodei has gone soft. Perhaps Emil could get away with anything, if only he distracted Hodei with a kiss first.

4: Emil doesn't really connect with people his age.

In fact, Emil doesn't have many friends. He talked vaguely of some coworkers he was familiar with, but that was it. It worried Hodei.

When talking to his friends about it, they all shrugged and looked quite hesitant about it.

"He's kind of... weird," an old friend from middle school said, avoiding his eyes, "I mean, it's like he doesn't know how to talk to other people."

"That's because he _doesn't_ ," Hodei sighed. "But I know he just needs a chance. Below the surface, he's great, trust me."

Emil had met Hodei's friends before, usually a quick greeting when they came over before he fled to hide in their bedroom. But this time Hodei gestures him over with a smile, and Emil sits stiffly and closely beside him, a frightened immovable statue.

He makes quiet, brief small talk--about what university he went to, his job. After a while, Hodei, feeling only slightly guilty, gives everyone alcohol and watches Emil loosen up bit by bit like a tough knot.

He leaves to put the wine bottle away, his chest warm and fuzzy, and when he comes back Emil is passionately ranting about "celestial _fucking_ mechanics". He feels proud, and the next time everyone comes over, Emil sits with them again, still awkward but considerably less stiff than before.

"I'm glad you told them about your hate for celestial mechanics," Hodei tells him when they're sprawled out in bed, still half-drunk.

"Yeah," Emil mumbles. "Fucking calculations. Don't astrophysicists know... that dark matter... is all the rage..." He's asleep within seconds, and Hodei smiles, watching his eyelids droop and his face become angelic and peaceful.

5\. Emil humors him through the most ridiculous things.

During the spring they had the chance to vacation in Croatia--Hodei wanted to research for a novel, and Emil had time off from work, so it worked out. They hiked up Croatia's lush green mountains with a group of other tourists and a peppy blonde tour guide. She'd been quite amused by them, in a pleasant way.

When they just begin walking, she slows down to saunter next to the two of them, and in her thick accent, asks them where they're from.

"New York," Emil replies, managing a graceful, sociable smile--Hodei is impressed.

"Are you two married?" She asks, obviously excited by the thought, and Hodei feels his face heat up. "Soulmates, maybe?"

"No, we're not married!" Hodei blurts as Emil laughs. "T-though, we are soulmates."

"I'm a professor, I teach astronomy," Emil says, "and my boyfriend's a best-selling author." He winks, and the tour guide oohs and ahs over them.

They reach a flat meadow high up and the view is gorgeous. In the distance he can see the town, perched by the sea with its great stone wall surrounding it, the ocean stretching on for miles full of glittering waves, winding roads perched on the edge of mountains and towering trees. Emil and him stay silent, admiring the view and listening to the snap of cameras from the other tourists. Hodei leans into Emil, comfortable, and lets his mind wander.

Suddenly, he jumps, and Emil does too, startled. "Idea!" Hodei says, "I've got an idea, where's--" Emil is already digging into his bag and, in a flustered hurry, hands Hodei his pencil and notebook. In lieu of a flat surface, Emil bends over and let's Hodei scribble furiously on his back. The others look on, laughing quietly at the spectacle, and when Hodei's done there's the burn of embarrassment on his cheeks.

"Sorry," he tells Emil, but Emil shrugs, smiles, and murmurs _it's nothing_.

The tour guide gets a picture of both of them standing against that heavenly backdrop, arms around each other, smiling with slight blushed on their cheeks and bright looks in their eyes.

The rest of their trip Emil stands at ready with his notebook-- _just in case_ , he says, and Hodei would have been embarrassed if it weren't for that happy warm feeling in his chest.

6\. Emil is unaffected and nonchalant--trauma-free in a way that Hodei wishes he coud be.

Hodei has demons that haunt him late into the night; he wakes up in a cold sweat, visions of nooses and clueless morning birds on the back of his eyelids, Emil’s name on his tongue. When Hodei is unsettled by his own mind, he’s _there_. Emil is always awake, it seems.

So when Hodei wakes up with a cry, Emil rolls over to push his hair back and press a kiss to his cheek. All he says is, “it’s okay,” and then the warmth beside Hodei is gone. His fingers search, but Emil is not there, so he stares up at the ceiling fan with no interest at all.

An odd feeling overtakes him: like he’s floating away from his body, observing from the view of someone else. Him, a different person, laying in the bed with frozen shock on his eyes. His fingers curl to clutch the sheets, the he doesn’t feel it. It’s a TV show, a movie. None of it seems quite real. Time moves both slowly and in fast-forward.

Emil comes in and sets two cups of tea on the bedside table. He presses a hand to Hodei’s forehead, and he’s sucked back into his own body, blinking slowly to readjust. It’s hard to focus on Emil’s eyes, but when he does, they’re _green_. The lights of the city reflect in them, like two pools of the sea. He reaches up to touch the soft skin below one eye, and Emil smiles, putting his soft hands on Hodei to help him sit up.

The tea is slippery elm. The warm, licorice-taste of it slowly brings Hodei to his senses, like rising out of cold water. Though Emil brought his own cup, he doesn’t touch it, and instead watches Hodei carefully, like one would watch a frightened animal.

“It’s not fair that I have nightmares,” Hodei says, breaking the silence, and Emil looks down at his hands.

“Well… I’d have the nightmares instead of you, if I could,” he says sadly.

“That came out wrong,” Hodei sighs, “it’s _not_ your fault. It’s just that--” He chokes on his words, and turns to look out the window. Outside, the city lives on, never sleeping, cars bustling about like busy bees in a hive. “I shouldn’t be traumatized. It wasn’t me at the gallows. I lived luxuriously even after you died, I got married, I had a good death, but…” He clenched his hands, nails digging into his palms. “It still replays through my head over and over. You, with a rope around your neck. With the stupid birds _singing_ \--” It’s only when Emil clutches onto his arm does he realize that he’s crying.

“What happened wasn’t your fault either,” Emil tells him with that same earnest expression he had the day they met again--his wide eyes never wavering, still believing that just waiting long enough would solve things, would reveal anything. “I told you already, that I was _ready_ to die. And if you hadn’t talked to me that night before, I don’t think I would’ve been ready.... So you helped, as much as you could.” Emil smiled. “And I found you in the end. You don’t have to be scared or guilty anymore. It’s okay.”

Though they don’t sleep that night, there’s a small part of Hodei that is finally settled.

7\. Sometimes Emil tries to hide things, but it never lasts for long.

He gets jumpy, like a frightened rabbit. Hodei sees him stare at his phone for long periods of time, not really tapping the screen at all, just _staring_ \--and when Hodei says something to him he hides it. It takes hardly any time for Hodei to know something’s up, and when he confronts Emil, he crumbles quickly.

“My sister found out my number, somehow,” he sighs.

Hodei blinks. “You mean she didn’t know your number in the first place?”

Emil grimaces, “No. I changed it. But… she wants to see me again. I haven’t seen her since, Jesus, my freshman year of college.” He rubs a hand over his face, exasperated, as if this is the hardest decision he’s ever had to make.

Hodei can’t help it--he shakes his head. “Go see her!” Emil looks at him like he just told Emil to jump off a cliff. “You’re setting yourself up for disaster by thinking it’ll be awkward, Emil. I know how you are. So just go see her with no expectations and it’ll be fine, trust me.”

He hesitates. “Can you go with me?”

And Hodei smiles. “Of course.”

The next week, at a Starbucks, Hodei meets her.

Emil’s sister is taller than the both of them, with long elegant legs and the slender build of a model. Her hair looks black like Emil’s, but when it catches the light it’s revealed that she’s a brunette--her eyes, though, are the same two jewels. Hodei wonders if it’s a family trait.

She notices them, a frappuccino in hand, and cries out, “ _Em_ ,” bounding towards them. She crushes Emil in a hug with one arm, and Emil laughs tensely, not hugging her back.

“You got taller,” she remarks, letting him go with a grin. “I really missed you! What have you been up to?”

Emil pauses. “Uh, you know…” he catches Hodei’s eye and perks up. “Oh, you haven’t met my soulmate!” Her lips part in an O and she looks at Hodei with bright eyes as Emil introduces him.

“Soulmate!” She shakes Hodei’s hand eagerly. “I’m glad Em finally found you! I’m Cajsa.”

After the initial hesitation, the two catch up. Emil tells her about Hodei’s books, about how they met, and about his work in astronomy. Cajsa, Hodei discovers, his Emil’s oldest sister at 34, and works as a lawyer, though she dances on the side. She has a way of getting Emil out of his shell quickly, and gets him to laugh so hard he nearly spits out his coffee. They reminisce about their childhood, memories Emil never told Hodei about--though most of them include Cajsa dragging him along on her adventures.

When the two have to say their goodbyes, she reaches out to put a hand on Emil’s shoulder and smiles, much softer than the toothy grins of before. “You can always call me, you know,” she says. “It was great seeing you again, after so long.”

Emil smiles back, though his is comparably sadder. “I’m sorry. I just figured that no one cared to see me--that you didn’t want to see me.”

“Maybe not the old Em, but you’ve changed. You know who you are now, don’t you? You’re not that lost kid anymore,” she glanced at Hodei, “you found what you were looking for, and now you’re yourself.”

When Cajsa leaves and Emil and Hodei are walking back home, Hodei tells him, “I’m proud of you, you know.”

Emil snorts. “For what?”

“You’re not so stuck in the past anymore.” Hodei reaches out to link hands with him. “You’re not afraid to talk to my friends, or other people your age, or people in general. You talked to your sister even though it’d been so long and you were scared. You’ve been really brave.”

Emil is silent for a moment. “It’s not easy,” he says quietly. “My whole life has revolved around you, and now I have to work on myself. It’s hard.”

“Well, I think you’re doing well.”

When the two get home, Emil pauses with the keys in his hand and turns to look at Hodei. The city lights are reflected in his eyes, a kaleidoscope of colors in a sea of green. “I love you,” he says, and it sounds like music.

8\. There is no end to love.

Hodei and Emil don’t get married weeks after meeting, but they don’t _need_ to.

All they need is late nights curled up beside each other, with the covers kicked off the bed; endless conversations about Shakespeare; cups of tea after night terrors; the city lights outside their window; the comfort that the past is in the past.

And so when Hodei reaches out, across the sheets, or through some inches of air, he knows he’ll find Emil.

Even in another life.

After all, soulmates always do.

**Author's Note:**

> This was just a quick little thing based on a prompt I found on Tumblr:
> 
> “You become a writer and your series of novels become extremely popular, but what they don’t know is that you’re retelling your previous life where certain circumstances made it so you and your soulmate did not end up together. However, your soulmate promises to be with you in the next lifetime. At a book signing you open the book cover of a fan’s copy to see something written on the front page: 'I’m sorry I took so long'.”


End file.
